Skye Fall
by Mounted Ranger Black
Summary: While passing through a small Wisconsin town, Sam and Dean meet a bartender who just happens to be Dean's daughter, Skye.
1. Skye

**Welcome! This is my first story I've published here (except for two crappy little ones) so bear with me! My goal is to update as often as I can, but this weekend won't let me have any free time, since I will be playing rugby at Final Four for the Minnesota Rugby Union! Whoo hoo! **

**I do not own Supernatural, or anything related to it. Skye is all mine, as well as the idea of the bar, the animals, the truck (which is the same truck that my fiancee drives!). **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

Castiel stood in the shadows, watching the small child sleeping fitfully. She kicked her legs under her baby blanket, her eyes closed. The snow outside the window sent falling shadows over her face, the moonlight lighting up her delicate features.

The angel gently stroked his finger over her cheek, calming her into a quiet slumber. A smile, so faint it was almost undetectable, graced his lips. "God bless, Skye Grace." He whispered into the darkness before disappearing with a rustle of wings.

Skye Grace Winchester slept peacefully, unaware of the angel that watched her protectively each and every night.

~18 years later~

Skye walked through the empty hallways of the high school with her head high, her "don't-give-a-shit" attitude in plain sight. Her bright green eyes were obscured by a pair of sunglasses, her blonde hair falling just to her shoulder blades. She was wearing a gray t-shirt covered with a dark red flannel button up, dark wash jeans with a black leather belt, and her boots.

"Hey, Skye!" Somebody yelled down the hallway, but Skye didn't look up to see who it was. She really didn't care right now either. She just wanted to be out before she got caught by the principal again.

"Ms. Winchester, where do you think you're going?" A man's voice barked out just as she was about to push open the door. She groaned. 'Dammit', she thought.

Turning to glare venomously at the principal, a short round man called Tratsch, she stuck her tongue in her cheek, rolling her eyes. "I'm leaving."

Principal Tratsch quirked an eyebrow. "What makes you think you can just walk out of here without serving detention later?"

"Nobody cares if I leave. You'd rather not spend detention with me anyway. And my mother doesn't care, because she is just a worthless mother who would rather do drugs than raise a kid." Skye stood, ready to leave, waiting for a reply from the man.

"Well… uh…well…" He mumbled, glancing around nervously.

Skye grinned. "Exactly. See ya later Tratsch." She laughed quietly as she strode to her truck, a 1989 F-150 pickup. The engine rumbled to life, spewing black smoke as she left for home. The twenty minute drive back to the house was uneventful, so she sang along with the radio as Metallica and AC/DC played. She was grinning by the time she pulled into the drive way.

A large black and tan dog was laying in the sun on the porch, soaking up the mid-December sun. He slowly raised his head as Skye pulled her truck to a halt. With a huff, the dog stood up and stretched before following Skye into the old red barn. She reached down and scratched behind his ears.

"Heya, Jack. I missed you buddy." She laughed, flipping on the lights in the barn. The other animals begin to move around in the stalls, waiting for her to feed them. "Who's hungry?' She laughed as one of the horses nickered and the cattle starting lowing from the pasture out back.

The first stall she walked to held a large chestnut Quarter Horse. The name on his stall door read 'Doc'. He stuck his big head over the half wall and stared at her as she brought over some hay. She chuckled while she rubbed his face.

The next horse was a black Appaloosa named Outlaw. He stood about 15 hands high, and was the shortest horse she owned. He sniffed her hair, gently lipping a few loose strands. Skye shooed him away as she stuffed some hay into his hay bag.

In the third stall, Skye almost couldn't see Drifter, a Black Paint stallion. His face was hidden in the shadows, but she could see the large white patch on his back, and the dim barn lighting reflected in his piercing blue eyes. He stayed in the back corner of his stall, flicking his ears her direction as she gave him his share of hay. He nickered softly, still not moving from his spot.

Cooper, a large brown Clydesdale, stood with his head leaning on the side of the stall door, watching her quietly as Skye gave hay to the other three horses. He stood at 17.5 hands, his ears brushing the top of the stall when he raised his head up. He kept pushing against her arms as she tried to give him as well, but she still managed to get it in the hay bag. "You little shit, Cooper! Be a good boy!" She laughed, playfully slapping his nose, making him huff.

Once the horses were done, Skye shrugged on her Carhartt jacket, the dark brown of the material warming her up instantly. She went in to the feed room at the back of the barn and filled a bucket with a mix of corn, cottonseed, protein pellets, and oats before she walked back to the main part of the barn in to the large stall opposite the four horses. Meat Head, her Hereford bull, stood waiting for his feed. He couldn't get his head through the opening on his door, since his horns didn't fit through all the way. He watched as she filled his trough with the grain, stepping up to it as she pulled the bucket away. She scratched around his great white horns, chuckling as he tossed his head. "You're a silly guy, Meat Head." She said as she walked back to the feed room.

The last chores of the night were the cattle in the outside pasture. She grabbed two five-gallon pails with the same feed as Meat Head and trudged outside through the snow. Jack followed her outside, leaving his place in the warm barn outside to the cold. Skye whistled for the cattle, emptying the pails into the ground feeders. One by one, the fourteen beef cattle in the pasture walked up the path to the yard, where their hay and feed waited. Skye's two cows, Bucky and Remington, lead the herd as they ambled up. The other twelve calves were market steers waiting for slaughter in the middle of summer.

Skye closed the barn door, shutting the lights off as she did. Jack ran up to the porch, scratching on the house door. She opened the old wooden door to the farmhouse, kicking off her boots and shucking her jacket off. She knew her mom wasn't home, so she didn't even see if she was. After feeding Jack, Skye ran up the steps to her room, quickly changing in to her work clothes: dark skinny jeans, black combat boots, a black muscle tank, black bandana, and her leather jacket. She applied some basic make up to her eyes before heading back downstairs and grabbing her keys from the table.

"Bye Jack, I'll see you later bud. Keep the house safe, attack anybody who comes okay?" She was rewarded with a tail wag as the dog just laid on the floor of the kitchen next to the air vent. Skye rolled her eyes, walking back to her truck. Once again the Ford roared to life, radio blaring something she couldn't understand. Another uneventful drive to work and she pulled into the parking lot at Bruiser's, the local bar. She parked in her spot in the back, making her way inside to set up the bar before everyone got off work for the day.

Her boss, Troy, was already there firing up the grill and fryers. "Hey, Skye. Ready for a busy night?" He smirked her direction.

She laughed, pulling her blonde hair into a ponytail before going through the register and counting the money. "Yeah, you're a funny guy, Troy. It's Thursday. Not many people show up on Thursday nights."

"Apparently, its Jake Ballweg's 21st today. And since his dad is always here, I figured that meant we might have a bunch of 21 year olds here looking to get shit faced." Troy kept setting up the fryers when Bruce, the owner of the place, walked in with a dolly of beer for the coolers.

"Hey guys." He said as he began unloading the beer, letting Skye do her own thing with the behind the bar work. Bruce wouldn't admit it, but in all the years of running the bar, he had never had a better bartender than Skye Winchester. One, her name was badass and gave her a great reputation with the locals, and Two, she knew how to operate on her own and take care of the people at the bar. The only thing she didn't do was wait on the tables, which was what Stacy did. "Any word on Ditzy yet?" Bruce yelled from the cooler.

Troy and Skye shared a look before laughing. "Yeah, when is she ever on time?" Troy looked at the clock above the fryer.

"Never." Skye closed the drawer to the register, turning around to check the ice machine. "Dammit, ice machine broke again. Do we still have ice in the freezer?"

Troy shrugged, making Skye groan out loud. She walked into the freezer and began looking for ice bags. "Ah-ha! Winner!" She smiled, hauling the bags to the bar and loading the ice machine.

The front door opened with a ding, the cowbell at the top signaling a customer. Skye looked up to see Stacy, a busty woman with dark hair and tight jeans. "Hey Skye. I'm not too late am I?" Skye shrugged, telling her that Bruce was looking for her. "Ugh, whatever…" She said, walking past the bar, her high heels clicking on the floor.

The first bar patrons walked in at 3:30, not too long after Stacy showed up. More and more customers came through the door shortly after that, packing the bar like most nights. Skye had a permanent smile on her face, conversing with the guys and gals and getting drinks. She frowned a little as she saw one of the local guys walk in, Travis Meyer.

He grinned at her, his tobacco-stained teeth sending a shiver down her spine. His clothes were dirty, having just come from the auto shop on the other side of town. Skye was fully aware that he only came to the bar because he wanted Skye.

Skye would never want Travis.

Troy caught her eye from the kitchen. He gave her a look that said "Is it Travis again?" She nodded, rolling her eyes and getting back at serving drinks, loading up a tray for Stacy.

Around 8:30 that night, two guys walked in that Skye had never seen before. She didn't pay much attention to them, seeing as out-of-towners walked in randomly all the time. They were maybe 35 years old, if she had to guess. Both tall, one a little bit taller than the other. Both dressed in flannel shirts with jackets, jeans, and work boots. The shorter one had short blonde hair, while the taller one had long brown hair. Skye figured they were brothers or co-workers.

The shorter one looked at the bar and smiled, while the taller one headed to grab a table near the back wall. "Hey sweetheart." He grinned cheekily at Skye, making her quirk an eyebrow and smile back.

"What can I get for you and your friend over there?" She asked, grabbing a glass and filling it with tap beer for a patron.

"Well I was hoping for some beer. What kind do you have?" Dean asked, leaning one arm on the bar in front of Skye.

Shaking her head, Skye grabbed a bar rag to wipe up spilled beer. "Tell me what you're looking for and I'll tell you if we have it."

Dean nodded. "Alright, got Bud Light?" Skye shook her head yes. "Awesome, two of those."

Skye reached under the bar and pulled out two chilled bottles. "There ya go. $2." She said, waiting for him to pay so she could keep working, because she wasn't impressed with his flirting tonight.

His eyebrows went up in surprise. "Awesome. Here, thanks." He grabbed the bottles and walked over to where Sam was, Skye's green eyes following him as he went. Somebody was calling her name and pulled her from her thoughts, a smile in place as she kept serving.

A few hours passed and those two strangers were still there, and after the amount of beer consumed by them Skye was surprised that they were still able to function properly. The bar had emptied enough that the two guys moved to sit at the bar counter, conversing with one another quietly.

"Still doin' alright gentlemen?" Skye asked as she wiped down the bar that was unoccupied in spots. She glanced at them before moving down the bar a little ways to keep cleaning.

They nodded. "Yeah, I guess we're doing pretty well. How're you doing tonight?" The shorter one asked, smiling.

Skye shrugged. "Living in paradise, is what I say." She grinned, refilling their mugs with the draft beer they switched to halfway through the night.

"So, how old are you exactly? You look 22, but I have a feeling that's wrong…"

"Actually, I'm 18, and no, if you ask, I am definitely not interested in anything." She smirked at them, watching the one with shorter hair lose his smile a little bit.

"But I never asked you anything…"

"You were going to. I know how it works with you strangers. Never seen ya before, probably just passing through town, looking for a quick hook-up, and leave the next morning without a word to the poor girl." Skye shook her head, faint smile in place.

Sam, the one with longer hair, cocked his head to the side. "Has that happened to you before?"

She looked at him quizzically. "Oh, no. I watch a lot of movies on the weekends." The other one, Dean, from what she had gathered, looked at her intently, his deep green eyes holding a question. "What's on your mind?" She leaned one arm on the bar, taking a break to grab a bottle of beer from the bar. She popped the top and took a swig, waiting for an answer.

"Aren't you 18? Should you be drinking that?" Sam asked.

"Nobody cares. It's just one anyway."

Dean smiled more. "Sweetheart, I'd be careful if I were you, wouldn't want to get in trouble, now would we?"

Skye smiled right back, throwing down more beer. "I don't care about trouble."

"Ooh, a rebel. I love rebellious bartenders…" He winked at her.

"I'd stop if I were you, bud." She finished the bottle with a few big swigs, tossing it in the recycling bin behind her.

Folding his arms on the bar, he leaned forward a little bit. "Why's that, sweetheart?"

"I'll throw your ass out of here is why. What's your name anyway?"

"Why's it matter?"

She stared at him for a few seconds. "It'd be nice to tell my boss who I kicked out, just so you couldn't come back. Name?"

Dean chuckled. "Dean Winchester. Yours?"

"Skye Winchester. You must be my father."

Dean's smile faltered, then faded. He looked utterly confused. "What? How is that possible?"

"My mother, Heather Christianson, got knocked up by you in Kansas when she was 16. Said a guy named Dean Winchester is the father."

Dean blanched visibly, Sam patting his shoulder. "Um…well…shit. I mean…sorry?"

Skye grinned again. "Hey, it's all good. It's a badass name anyway."

Sam made a face that looked like he connected the pieces to some incredible puzzle. "Dean, remember when we were in Kansas with Dad, with the… the dog? And at the high school, you kept bragging that you had a girlfriend who was a year older? You were 15? Wasn't her name Heather?"

Dean's eyes widened in realization. "Yeah… oh god… _that _Heather? Ew… looking back she was a bitch."

Skye burst out laughing, making the Winchester's look at her funny. "She is such a bitch now! God, she is so bad…" She kept chuckling, taking away the glass mugs and washing them by hand in the sink.

The three conversed while Skye finished behind the bar and shut off the lights, the guys following her out the back door. "So, we can meet up somewhere tomorrow then? I don't have school, so if y'all are staying in town, we can… talk?" She scribbled her address on a sheet of scratch paper she grabbed from the bar.

"Uh, sure. Sounds good. What time? Is 11 am okay?" Sam asked as Dean unlocked the car. Skye whistled when she noticed it.

"Yeah that works for me. '67, right?" Dean grinned. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Well, I'll see ya tomorrow then. Drive safe." Skye said as she climbed in her truck, firing up the cold engine.

Dean and Sam watched her drive off before they left the parking lot, heading to the motel. "Dude, what the hell… I have a daughter?" Dean asked his brother, still shocked by the news. That was not what they were expecting on their trip to Wisconsin.

Sam shrugged. "You did this to yourself. But she is pretty cool Dean. It seems that whoever raised her did a good job, from what we've seen tonight."

"Yeah, I guess you're right Sammy."


	2. Acceptance? Or not?

The Impala rumbled up the gravel driveway, crunching over the hard packed snow with ease. The December chill crept into the interior of the car, making Dean look around in nervousness.

Sam noticed his distress. "Dude, chill out. It's just the weather. There isn't any ghost or spirit around. Trust me. Calm down." His dark eyes flicked over his older brother's tense form. "You are really nervous aren't you?"

Dean glanced at him but quickly looked away before wiping a hand down his pant leg. "What? No. Not at all." He mumbled, killing the ignition and getting out, starting towards the house. Sam followed suit, sighing as he saw Dean still looking around nervously.

As soon as Dean's foot touched the first wooden step of the porch, a large dog came running out of the barn, barking viciously. Dean jumped, reaching instinctively for the hilt of his knife. Sam's hand on his shoulder prevented him from pulling out the blade.

"Jack! Down." Came a voice from inside the house. Skye stood on the other side of the screen door, glaring at her dog. The dog immediately stopped barking and ran ahead of Sam and Dean into the house. "Sorry about him, he takes being a guard dog a little too seriously sometimes. Uh, welcome, I guess. Make yourselves comfortable. Coffee?" She asked as she shut the door behind the guys and headed back into the kitchen.

Sam began to follow her. "Sure, thanks." He made it into the kitchen before Skye whirled on him…

…butter knife held threateningly at him. "Boots off. On the rug by the door." She growled out, her green eyes darkening.

Sam swallowed. "Sorry…" He had his hands up, and slowly backed out of the kitchen, Skye not wavering from her spot with the knife in her hand. "Dean, take your boots off. She has a butter knife." Dean raised his eyebrows at his brother. "Just take the boots off."

Once the boots came off, and Skye put the butter knife away, the three Winchester's sat at the table, an awkward silence surrounding them. Finally, Skye got up without a word, leaving the kitchen. She returned carrying a big pink book with a white ribbon holding it closed. "Here, figured you might want to see this." She mumbled, sliding the book to Dean and resuming her seat again, holding the steaming cup of coffee in her hand.

Slowly, and a bit unsurely, Dean opened the book, glimpsing into the life of his daughter that he didn't know he had. Everything was compiled in the book, from her birth up until the start of middle school. There weren't very many pictures, but enough that Dean could see part of her life, almost like he was there. "Thanks, Skye." He noticed, on her birth certificate that there was no father signature, but instead someone had scrawled in 'Winchester', letting Skye take his last name. He also noticed that her middle name was Grace, and it seemed fitting, in a way.

As he kept flipping through the picture pages, with Sam looking over his shoulder, he paused at one picture in particular, with Skye on her first day of kindergarten, as the caption below read, staring intently at a man in the background with a tan trench coat on. "Skye?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you know this man? In the trench coat?" He asked, placing his finger next to the man.

Skye looked at it for a minute before answering. "Yeah. That's Castiel. He stops in every once in a while to check on me. Why? Do you know him?" She gave Dean a curious look.

Dean nodded slowly. "Yeah. He's a… friend of ours. Haven't seen him in a while. When was the last time you saw him?"

"Probably two or three days ago. He normally pops in while I'm doing evening chores."

Sam looked up at her. "Do you know anything else about this man?" He gave her the puppy dog eyes, hoping that would help with getting an answer.

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Yeah, he's an Angel of the Lord. Don't worry, he's been through the whole thunder and lightning and seeing his wings and blah, blah, blah. He's the one that told me more about you two then my mother. Nobody in my family ever really talked about you." Skye shrugged, standing up to top off her coffee. "Aunt Kate was the only one who liked me. But she died a while ago in a car accident. Grandma and grandpa didn't like me, none of the uncles and aunts liked me, nobody except Aunt Kate. She put the book together."

Sam and Dean both nodded thoughtfully. "So, do you know when Castiel is gonna show up again?" Dean asked, closing the book.

Shaking her head, she leaned back in her chair, reaching down to scratch behind Jack's ear from where he lay next to her. "He might show up tonight. Or tomorrow. Usually every four or five days he checks in. If I'm really stressed or things get sketchy with mom then he shows up to protect me from cops."

Dean leaned forward towards her. "What's up with the cops?"

Skye huffed. "Well, mom has been a drug addict for about as long as I can remember. A few years ago she started dealing drugs and making her own stuff. She makes a lot of dough with it, and she's been almost caught a few times. There was one time, just recently, where she didn't get paid for an order, and she blamed me for stealing money she never had in the first place. So she called the cops on me. That's when Castiel showed up at the door, saying he was here to keep me safe.

When the cops showed up, they wanted to search the house, but mom didn't let them. She just kept saying that I was a horrible, worthless person. I told them I didn't need to take any money since I made enough with cattle sales and working at the bar to stay happy and make payments. Mom got pissed that the cops were going to leave without doing anything, so she started spewing bullshit about how I stole one of the horses I have. The cops demanded I show them my sales receipt for the four horses, and the cattle, but I only have sales receipts for three of the horses, seeing as one was a rescue horse I nursed back to health. I don't own him since he was a rescue, and I was pretty much given him. So when I didn't have the receipt, Castiel just happened to have the document that said I owned him."

Sam and Dean just sat there, taking in everything she told them. Silence engulfed the trio again, the only sound was their light breathing and Jack snoring from the floor.

Dean cleared his throat, glancing around the kitchen again. "So, what do you all have here? Horses, I guess, and a dog. Anything else we should see or know about?" He finally met her gaze, noticing that she seemed to look right through him, her piercing gaze slightly unsettling. He shifted in his seat.

"Sure. Let's go." She stood, collecting coffee mugs and setting them in the sink. Jack led the way to the door while boots and coats were put on. Skye opened the door and stood on the porch for a minute before heading to the barn, Sam and Dean following her.

The sunlight shown in through some windows, giving the barn a cozier look to it on the inside. "Well, I guess we'll start with the horses then, huh?" She chuckled, opening up a side door to the small horse pasture, which was next to the cattle pasture. The four horses were out there, as well as a big red and white bull. Skye whistled, catching their attention. The five animals walked over and stood next to the metal gate, watching the three humans with interest. "Okay, well this is Outlaw, Cooper and Doc." She said, pointing to the Appaloosa, the Clydesdale, and the Quarter Horse in turn. The next one was the bull. "This is Meat Head, he's a Hereford bull." She scratched his head while he tried to lick her hand with his pink tongue. She then pointed to a black and white horse who stood a little ways away from the others. "And this is Drifter, the stallion I rescued."

The horse stood with his ears back, head slightly lowered, watching the men with wariness. His bright blue eye never left them, captivating Sam with the look he was giving them. "He's a stallion, you said?" Skye nodded, still scratching Meat Head. "Aren't they supposed to be more aggressive?" He asked, still staring at Drifter.

"Usually, and he is with most people. Well, everyone except Castiel and I." Skye said, turning her attention back to the animals.

"Huh." Sam said, still staring at the horse. Without warning, Drifter charged the gate, throwing his head over the top to try and bite at Sam, who managed to jump back in time. "Dammit!"

Skye chuckled. "That means he likes you." She grinned, heading back in to the barn to go back to the house.

The two men stayed at Skye's house for another two hours, just talking about all sorts of things, from Skye's schooling to her working at the bar, to the brothers traveling the country. It was peaceful.

Dean stood up with a smile, his chair sliding back on the wood floor. "Well, we should probably hit the road for the day. I don't think we're going to leave town for a few days, but we should get out to Sioux Falls soon to meet up with Bobby. Let's go Sammy."

"It's Sam." Came the grumbled reply. "Bye Skye, it was nice meeting you for the first time." Sam said, smiling as Skye stood to pull him into a hug.

"Yeah! It was great to finally meet you! Make sure you stop in from time to time, or keep me updated with where you're at and what you're up to, alright? You both have my cell number, and if it gets bad enough, I can call Castiel or Bobby, too." She said, releasing Sam to hug Dean, his arms wrapping around her. "Bye, Dad." She whispered in his ear, drawing a faint smile from him.

"Bye, kiddo. Stay safe, alright?" He held her at arm's length. She just grinned at him.

"You know I will, if I'm anything like you, right?" She smirked, green eyes dancing.

Skye watched them leave from her spot on the porch. Neither one of them looked backwards, but she had a sneaking suspicion that Dean glanced in the rearview mirror when Sam wasn't looking.

"Well, Jack. It's just you and me now, bud. Just like always." A sigh escaped Skye's lips, shoulders sagging. "I finally find my father, and then he leaves. I guess he doesn't want me either." She mumbled, heading back inside to wait before work again.

Castiel was standing in the kitchen when she walked in. She simply looked at him, not saying anything.

"Skye." Castiel said, his deep voice pulling her thoughts back to the present time.

"Castiel." She whispered back, moving from her spot to feed Jack before grabbing her work clothes out of the laundry room.

Castiel hadn't moved at all. "Skye, are you alright?"

Skye rolled her eyes. '_Just like Castiel to know something's wrong, yet he doesn't know what to do about it.'_ She sighed again. "I'll be fine, Cass."

He reached a hand out, grabbing her shoulder and spinning her to face him. He used his other hand to lift her chin up, staring into her eyes. "Something is troubling you. I may be able to help if you tell me what the problem is."

"It's fine. Nothing happened." She growled out, trying to get away from the angel.

Castiel didn't budge, the grip on her shoulder increasing until she stopped fighting. "Speak." He commanded.

Skye shrugged. "I'm fine."

"Skye…"

"I said I'm fine."

"Skye Grace…" He warned her again, blue eyes piercing her green ones.

"I said I'm fine Castiel." She tried tugging her shoulder free again, the pressure increasing.

"Skye Grace Winchester…"

"I SAID I'M FINE!" She shouted, breaking free and moving away to stare out the kitchen window again, watching the horses in the pasture. Drifter looked up at her like he knew she was watching. He didn't waver from his gaze, just as she knew Castiel was still looking at her.

"Skye, what happened?" His voice cracked, like it usually did whenever he wanted to talk to her badly.

Finally, she gave in. "I feel like I've been abandoned again, okay? I feel like you lied to me. I feel like I really am just a nobody in this God-forsaken town. The only people who seem to care are the people at the bar every night." Her eyes filled with tears, but she wouldn't let them fall if she could help it.

Castiel stood beside her, offering comfort. "You are not abandoned, Skye. Dean and Sam will be back. Trust me. It may not seem that way, and they might not return for a while, but they will return. And they will keep in touch with you. I promise." His presence seemed to calm her, and his words set her mind at ease.

Her voice starting to shake as she kept talking. "I know, but how many times in my life have been kicked to the curb? Huh? When is somebody going to start loving me for me, and not hating me because I'm the daughter of a drifter who got his 16 year old girlfriend pregnant in high school? Why am I the one who is still dealing with that? Why am I still fighting to be a part of my family's life? The only one who really loved me was Kate, and looked what happened to her… she died! She just died and now there is no one!" The tears were flowing freely, but Skye didn't seem to care. "Christ, Paul and Jody don't treat me like a granddaughter, and none of mom's brothers seem to know I'm still alive! It hurts, right here!" She drew in a shuddering breath as she pointed to where her heart was. "Nobody fucking cares about me! My own mother left me here because she'd rather do drugs and deal that shit, and sit around on her fucking ass all the fucking time. She's told me she hates me so many times, and I think that's almost the worst about all of this. Why couldn't I have the loving mom everyone at school seems to have? Why can't my mom do my hair and help me find a pretty dress for homecoming? Why can't my mom go shopping with me and talk to me about boys and tell me that if my heart gets broken, chocolate is the best way to fix it? She was never there for me! I have no friends at school, my teachers don't care, and the only people who seem moderately concerned about me are Bruce, Tony, Stacy, and you."

The angel drew the upset teenager into a warm embrace, wrapping his arms around her comfortingly. Skye wept into his shoulder, letting out all of her pain and frustrations and emotions. She didn't care that she was soaking his trench coat with her tears, staining the material with her mascara. She didn't care that she was finally letting her walls down to cry.

As Castiel held the weeping girl, he prayed to Heaven that she would remain faithful to the idea of her father returning, that she too would one day find the family and love she had been searching for her whole life. And he prayed that he would find the strength needed to help her through everything in the future.


	3. Chasing the bird

The next day, Sam decided that they needed to leave Wisconsin and head for South Dakota. Dean, to say the least, was not happy.

"Dean, will you just calm down and let me speak?" Sam begged, trying to get his brother to listen to him.

The oldest Winchester shook his head, fists clenched. "We haven't been here that long, and I just found out I have a daughter. A daughter, Sam. She should've been my responsibility this whole time, and where was I? Oh, that's right, I was chasing after a demon with my father, as well as hunting just about every other goddamn thing imaginable in our world! How do you think I'm handling this news?" He ground his teeth together as he paced the parking lot of Ganser's Motel.

"Dean, it's alright. We'll be back for her sometime. We'll keep in touch."

"No. I was raised with the order to never leave my family behind. And you know what I did? I left her behind. For 18 years, I left that little girl alone, going through God-knows-what with a druggy mom. I'm sure she probably hates me, but just didn't want to show it. And the fact that Castiel has been keeping an eye on her this whole time? Why the hell wouldn't he tell us? That's my daughter! My own flesh-and-blood daughter!" Dean was so close to yelling, but trying to keep his temper in check that the veins in his neck stood out predominately, causing his face to flush deep red. He sucked in a deep breath, turning away from Sam and started walking away, trying to clear his head.

Sam wasn't a fool. He knew exactly what Dean was doing, and he understood that he had to give his older brother some space to organize his head. So, while he waited, he decided to text Skye. _Hey, just wanted to let you know that we are probably going to head out tonight._

It didn't take long for a reply to come, but Sam thought he would get a response similar to what he got. _Fine. Drive safe. See you whenever. _He rolled his eyes, thinking that Dean would have said the same thing. His phone buzzed in his hand again. _Don't die._ He chuckled slightly at the last text.

At Bruiser's, Skye was bartending again. Just like always. Troy was in the kitchen, Bruce was somewhere, and Stacy was waitressing the tables.

Skye had a fake smile on her face, trying to look happy for the customers, but underneath the attempt, she felt like shit. She just wanted to curl in a ball and be alone. Some of the locals seemed to notice that Skye just wasn't her usual self and tipped her better than normal, trying to cheer her up, which it did.

The night seemed to stretch longer than normal. Finally, Skye packed up the bar and closed everything down. She could feel her stack of bills in her pocket, signaling the end to a pretty damn good night at the bar. After locking the back door to the bar, Skye made the short walk to her truck, her quickly-freezing fingers fumbling with the keys to open the door.

Her breath was visible in white puffs. She tried to get the truck to start, but it wouldn't. The ignition seemed like it wanted to start, but it wasn't catching. With all of her built up emotions, Skye just cried, not even making an attempt to get out and try to find the problem. She rested her forehead on the steering wheel, her tears falling onto her jean clad thighs.

On the other side of the parking lot, a man stumbled out of the woods, eyes squinted in confusion. He looked around slowly, his eyes locking on the black pick-up sitting behind the bar. He didn't see Skye in the driver's seat. Feet dragging, breath coming in short bursts, chest heaving, he grunted as he ambled slowly over to the truck. He could smell a human close-by.

The man reached out a hand, slamming it against the window of Skye's driver door. She jumped in her seat, letting out an involuntary scream. Seeing her reaction, the man tried to open the door, his hands struggling to grasp the cold metal. Skye slapped the lock down, eyes wide in shock as the man kept grunting, his eyes searching rapidly through the dark cab of the truck.

A guttural yell ripped through his throat as he looked into Skye's fear-filled eyes. With renewed vigor, he pounded his hands on the window. Skye tried to find a weapon in her truck, finally wrapping a hand around one of her knives. She started to slide towards the passenger seat, scooting backwards carefully. She locked the rear sliding door of the truck as well, reaching through the bars of her empty gun rack. Her other hand gripped the handle of the door for dear life, waiting for the right moment to open it and try to run. '_Is there a right moment in a situation like this?' _She mentally cursed herself for forgetting her cell phone at home. Now would be a great time to call Dean and Sam, see if they knew anything.

With a deep breath, Skye swallowed quickly and pushed the door open, jumping down from the cab, leaving the door open as she took off for the woods. She was confident enough in her hunting skills that she could navigate the woods to get home. She had hunted this particular piece of land many times with the Noltner boys.

Her booted feet carried her into the depths of the dark woods, sending her crashing through underbrush. Behind her, the man watched as she took off, pausing a moment before chasing after her, his intense hunger spurring him to run faster than he should've been able to.

Skye's lungs began to burn as she kept sprinting in her desire to escape the possessed man following her. She spared a glance over her shoulder, forgetting that it was damn-near pitch black, with the cloudy sky allowing minimal moonlight to shine through the frozen branches. The only bit of luck Skye managed to find was that there wasn't much snow on the ground here, so she could run a helluva lot faster.

Catching onto her scent again, the man picked up his speed, quickly getting closer to Skye. He started to reach out a gnarled hand towards her, as if willing her to fall. She did.

A ridiculously large tree root seemed to have come up out of nowhere, Skye's boot getting stuck underneath it, and her body twisting in mid-step to collide with the frozen ground. She cried out as she felt her ankle give out, an audible crack coming from her lower leg.

'_Just like a fucking movie scene,_' she thought as she tried to pull her leg out of root, shaking in pain as she yanked forcefully on it. '_The deranged psychopathic killer chasing the almost-helpless victim through the woods, waiting for her to fall so he could rape or murder her. Delightful.'_

The man slowed to a creeping walk, twisting his head left and right, staring at Skye. The action reminded Skye of a hawk watching a field mouse before the attack, or a cat waiting to pounce. She trembled.

"Pretty, so pretty. Pretty, pretty." He kept mumbling, fingers starting to twitch, a nasty grin sliding over his face. He stopped within fifteen feet of Skye, just watching as she fought to get free. "Pretty, pretty little bird. Did you fall from the sky, little birdy? Such a pretty, pretty bird…" He said, his voice rough as though he hadn't spoken for years.

She gave up. It was no use to try and pull a broken leg out of a tree root. She resigned herself to a possible death, grabbing the knife off the ground next to her. Hiding it near the ground, she waited as the man slunk closer, reaching his dirty, grubby hand towards her, stroking her hair tenderly. She whimpered quietly, shutting her eyes. His breath made her want to retch, but she held it in, using it to fuel her desire to get away.

A chuckle of sorts made its way out of the throat of the man, Skye whimpering harder, squirming in her spot under his hand. His other hand grabbed her by the chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. Her green eyes opened against their will, staring back into the bloodshot grey eyes of the man. She noticed his clothes were covered in dirt stains, ripped in many places, and he no shoes on. His dirty black hair framed his face, which looked as if it was half-rotted away. The skin was grey and withered, pulling away from the eyes, his lips shriveled enough to show his bottom teeth clearly.

"No, no, no, no." She whispered, trying to pull her head back out of his grasp. He kept a firm hold on her.

"So pretty, pretty." He said again, leaning down to smell her hair, inhaling her scent. She cried out in fear. "Pretty little birdy doesn't sing anymore. Little birdy can't sing if little birdy is dead. Pretty, so pretty little birdy." He grunted again.

Willing her heart to stop beating so uncontrollably, Skye re-gripped her knife hilt, shoving the blade through the arm holding her face. The man yanked his arm back, pulling on her hair harder. She cried out again, reaching up to attack the other arm. He released her with a yell, eyes filled with rage.

Skye held the knife in front of her threateningly. The man lurched forward, accidentally providing a shot to the neck. The young Winchester buried the knife to the hilt in his throat, the blade sticking out a little bit on the back side of his neck. He fell backwards, twitching. Finally he stopped moving, and Skye still hadn't moved, waiting to see if he was dead.

When he hadn't moved a muscle in a few minutes, Skye tried to get her leg out of the root. She bit her lower lip to stop from crying out. She could taste the irony blood from her lip, squeezing her eyes shut as a wave of pain washed over her again.

After just lying on the cold ground for a few minutes, Skye decided to try and roll herself back over the tree root and slide her leg out backwards. It took a few tries, but she managed to get herself on her back, taking a deep breath before pulling her useless leg free. Standing was awkward, but doable, and limping severely back to the truck was a struggle. As she hobbled past the man, she yanked the knife blade from his throat, wiping the gunk on his dirty clothing.

It seemed to take forever before she reached the edge of the parking lot, her truck still sitting in the parking lot waiting for her. She choked down a sob as she kept making her way to the truck. She climbed in the passenger side, closing the door behind her, and slid her way back to her seat, her left leg reaching the pedals. She just let her right leg hang off to the side, out of the way.

Turning the key again, which she had thankfully left in the ignition, the truck finally managed to sputter to life. "Yes! Thank god…" She leaned her head back down on the steering wheel, using her right hand to put the truck in reverse, then drive as she began the slow journey back home to figure out what to do with her leg.

It was a little after 4 a.m. when Skye finally got the truck into the driveway. The kitchen light in the house was on, and Dean's Impala was close to the porch. '_Why the hell are they here? Sam said they were leaving…right?'_ She shrugged it off.

Skye didn't know how to go about getting out of the truck, so she opted instead to honk the horn, hoping that they were still awake. She could hear Jack barking from the house, and a relieved smile crossed her face.

Dean was still sitting in the kitchen when Jack started barking at a car horn. Setting down his cup of coffee, the oldest Winchester stood and looked out the kitchen window to see Skye's truck. He waited for her to get out, but she wasn't. Confusion swept across Dean's features, and he slipped on his boots to go see what was wrong.

Jack slipped through the door before Dean could, racing to the door of the truck. Dean jogged after him, slowing to a walk as he opened Skye's door. He could see that her face was dirty and tear-streaked, her hair messy, with what looked like a twig tangled in it.

"Skye? What happened?" He asked, concerned, his eyes taking in her form with practiced ease, looking for any injuries. He frowned when he spotted her leg. "Skye?"

She turned her head, looking at him for the first time since she pulled in. "You're here…why?" She whispered, eyes filling with tears again. "You…you left?"

Dean shook his head quickly. "We were going to, but we found something that we wanted to check into first. Are you okay?" He gently touched her arm, and she sank into his hand, head lolling forward to rest against her chest.

"I fell."

Carefully, Dean pulled the girl from the truck cab, noticing just how badly her leg was twisted at the ankle. He used his hip to shut the door, carrying her in his arms to the house and setting her down on the couch in the living room. "Skye, open your eyes. I need you to look at me, kiddo." Her green eyes fluttered open, gazing into the identical eyes of her father. "There ya go. What happened?"

Skye took a deep breath, trying to relax a little bit. "I closed down the bar, locked up, went to my truck and it wouldn't start. So I sat there, and I forgot my phone so I couldn't call anyone. This guy came from nowhere and scared the hell out of me. I took off for the woods and he chased me. I fell, twisted my leg in a tree root, and he caught up to me. Kept saying I was pretty, a pretty little bird who couldn't sing. He smelled my hair, and then I stabbed at his arms to let him release me. I shoved my knife into his throat, got my leg free, and made it back to the truck. Got here." She shivered, pulling a blanket off the back of the couch to cover herself in.

Dean nodded. "Alight, well let's get your leg taken care of first, then we can figure out what was chasing you." He placed a hand on top of her head before getting up and jogging to the kitchen to grab his phone.

He flipped open the phone and dialed Sam's number, waiting for him to pick up. "Hey, I need your help at Skye's house." Dean said before Sam could get a word in.

Sam sighed. "What happened?" He asked tiredly, and Dean could tell he was rubbing a hand over his eyes.

"Skye was chased by a crazy man through the woods after work, fell and I think she broke her leg or her ankle. I can't tell and I need your help with what to do? Can you get a cab over here, or should I come get you quick?" Dean peeked around the corner, seeing the top of Skye's head from over the top of the couch.

"Uh, yeah, I'll need a ride to get there. Don't exactly have enough for a cab. Will she be okay alone?" Dean's brother asked, crawling out of bed to grab some clothes after a quick shower. He would be dressed before Dean could pick him up.

"Thanks, Sam." Dean closed his phone, rubbing at his eyes. He returned to the living room to find Jack sitting by Skye's head, watching her as she slept. Dean scratched Jack's head before gently shaking Skye awake.

She slowly opened her eyes, one at a time, looking sleepily at Dean. "What?"

He smiled a little bit. "I'm going to go pick up Sam from the motel, but I need to make sure you don't have a concussion okay?" She nodded. "What's your full name?"

"Skye Grace Winchester."

"Birthday?"

"October 31st, 1994."

"Parents?"

"Dean Winchester and Heather Christianson."

"What's today's date?"

"It's Saturday. No, Sunday morning. The…15th of December?"

"What kind of car do I drive?"

"1967 Chevy Impala. Am I done now? Did I pass?" She grumbled, pulling her blanket tighter around her shoulders. Dean patted her head gently again, rising to his feet and heading to the car.

"I'll be back soon, Skye." Dean said as he closed the door behind him. The Impala rumbled to life, headlights illuminating the yard and pastures. He took off for the road, gravel flying.

In his haste to get Sam and return to Skye, Dean's practiced eyes missed the pale, dirty figure slowly creeping out of the woods across the yard, opposite the barn.

The figure stopped, sniffing. "Pretty, pretty little birdy can't fly anymore." It whispered, watching the house with interest before resuming its slow creeping pace.


	4. Like Father, like daughter

Sam sat in the passenger seat of the Impala, fists clenched in his lap as Dean sped back to Skye's house. He glanced cautiously out the window, watching the road signs passing by at an alarming rate. "Uh, Dean, don't you think you're going just a bit fast?"

Dean didn't answer, just pressed down harder on the gas pedal.

"Dean?"

"I need to get back to her, Sam. I have this…this feeling, in my gut that she isn't as safe in that house as she thinks she is. Not anymore. Not because of me." He said, fingers gripping the steering wheel with renewed strength.

Sam just nodded once, keeping his mouth shut as Dean continued to break traffic laws to get back to the house.

Skye hadn't moved from her spot on the couch, still petting Jack's head in lazy, tired circles. Her eyes were closed, close to sleep, but she tried to stay awake for when Dean and Sam got back. Finally, she let her hand drop to the side of the couch, fingers grazing the floor. Her mouth opened slightly in sleep, chest rising and falling slowly with breaths. Jack kept watching her, his ears flicking around to listen outside.

Drifter stood in the pasture, staring at the house. More specifically, at the strange, unfamiliar figure slowly lurching towards the house. He nickered, trying to find a response. None came. As the man got closer, Drifter moved to stand at the fence close to the yard. He pulled his ears back flat, neighing loudly at the creature.

Drifter's scream had Jack running for the door, looking out the windows to see what was going on. He ran around the lower level, searching.

The man found the front door was unlocked, and pushed his way inside. He grinned evilly, but before he could say anything, a large beast of a dog was barking and running straight at him. Jack's teeth sunk into soft, smelly flesh, ripping and yanking at the arm of the man.

An inhuman scream woke Skye, who sat up on the couch, eyes wide in alarm. She tried to get up to see the problem, falling directly to the floor as she tried to put pressure on her damaged leg. She peeked around the corner of the couch and saw Jack hanging on to the man that attacked her earlier.

Using the last of the strength she had, Skye crawled towards the wall under the stairs. Her gun safe was hidden underneath, and she needed to get inside it.

She grunted as she managed to get the hidden door open, flipping the light switch. Skye couldn't help the small smile at her incredible stash of weaponry.

Jack held on to the man as long as he could, his gums bleeding with the effort of keeping the man at the door. A swift, well-placed kick to the ribs had the dog falling back, growling. He set his eyes on the left knee, seeing a patch of grey skin under the torn pants. Teeth sunk in again, the man's screams returning. Skye was digging through the pistols she had, finally finding a Glock she acquired from a police friend. She checked the clip, slamming it in and crawling back out to the scene of Jack attacking the man.

The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth as she bit into her lip to keep from crying out in pain. She could see the man still fighting Jack by the door. Placing her elbow on the carpet, leveling the pistol, Skye calmed her breathing and waited for a shot.

Dean and Sam finally reached the house, seeing the lights still on and a strange shadow by the front door. Dean all but flew from his seat and sprinted towards the house. He ducked as he heard a gunshot from inside.

"Skye!" He hollered, surveying the porch before looking through the side window to see Skye on her stomach, pistol aimed at the door. "Skye?" He called again. Dean cautiously reached for the door handle, instantly smelling the dead man on the floor. "Jesus Christ…" He muttered to himself before stepping over the corpse and kneeling down by Skye. "Are you alright?"

She took a deep, shuddering breath, nodding. Her eyes were dry, and her hands were shaking. "Yeah, uh, I think so. Help me up?" She finally looked him in the eye, and offered a small smile. Dean gently grabbed her by the upper arms, and lifted her completely off the ground before setting her down on her good leg. She hissed as her foot bumped the ground, instantly drawing it back up off the offending surface.

"You okay?" Dean's eyebrows were furrowed, concern in his eyes. He checked her for any other possible injuries. "Is this the guy that was chasing you?" Skye nodded. "Dammit. Well, Skye, that's a reincarnated dude."

"A.K.A., a zombie, correct?"

Sam knelt down to look at the guy again. "Uh, yeah. Zombie. You're lucky you had Jack here, otherwise I'm guessing this guy wouldn't have hesitated to kill you." His dark eyes were skeptical, and Skye could tell he wasn't saying something, but she chose to hold her tongue.

"So is he dead? Can we get him out of my house now?" The youngest Winchester winced as Dean helped her back to the couch. "And maybe figure out what to do with this fucking leg?" She grumbled, gratefully accepting the blanket Dean handed to her.

"Just calm down, Skye. Sam and I will take care of this guy. Then, we'll look at your leg more and see if we need to take to the hospital for it." He rolled his eyes as his daughter mimicked his glare perfectly. "It might be necessary for it to heal, dumbass." He smirked as she rolled her eyes back at him, waving him away impatiently.

The man stunk more than Dean was expecting, and he almost gagged as they built a fire behind the barn. The early morning sunrise covered up the reddish glow of the fire, but failing to mask the horrible stench of rotting, burning flesh. "Why did this guy come after Skye? That's what I can't figure out." Dean turned to face Sam, who had his hands in his pocket, watching the flames.

Shrugging, Sam took a deep breath. "Well, could be witches, if the guy went after Skye on purpose. It could be a regular zombie, who just happened to stumble on Skye. My guess? Witches."

Dean was silent as he pondered Sam's words. _'Why on Earth would witches send a zombie after Skye? Nobody should know that she's my daughter, unless word got out already. But why her? Why not send them after me? Or Sam?'_ The flames reflected in his green eyes as he got lost in thought. No emotion crossed his face.

Skye sat in the kitchen, a bag of ice on her lower leg to help with the pain. She stared out the window, watching the smoke from the pyre out back curl lazily around the front of the barn and rise slowly up towards the clouds. The black smoke stunk, she knew that much, but the house didn't smell too bad. Turning her head, she saw the damage the man caused to the front entry way, thankful Jack had stopped him before he could destroy the whole lower level of the house.

"Hey, how are you doing?" Sam's voice shook her from her thoughts. She looked up at him, confused.

"Huh?"

Sam allowed himself a half-smile. "How are you?" He brushed the long hair out of his face.

She shrugged. "Eh. I guess I've had better days than this, that's for sure. Leg hurts, but I'll live. Where's Dean?" Skye was tempted to say Dad, but she knew that once she did, she would slowly open her heart up, just for it to get broken again.

"Still outside. He's pretty shook up about this." Sam said, moving to sit next to Skye, eyes surveying her leg. "Want me to take a closer look at your leg?" At her nod, he gently lifted Skye's leg, pulling up the bottom of her jeans until she winced. His long fingers roamed tenderly over the obviously broken bones. The ankle was definitely broken, and most likely the bottom of the tibia or fibula. "Well, it's broken, that's for sure. The ankle, yes, and the lower leg, well, possibly but X-rays would be extremely helpful."

Skye huffed. "Since when were you a doctor? I hate X-rays. And hospitals. And doctors. And everything associated with them!" She crossed her arms and slouched in her chair.

"If I didn't know you were Dean's daughter, I would say you act a helluva lot like them. And I don't know if that's necessarily a good thing." This time when he smiled, it reached his dark eyes, making him look younger than he was.

Outside, Dean continued to watch the fire, watching as it finally crumbled into small pieces. He started to head back inside, the early morning sun lighting up the yard enough that he could see. A dark, looming figure stood off to the right, not moving. Dean's eyes met Drifter's, the stallion's eyes unwavering in the stare-down with the hunter. An involuntary shiver ran down Dean's spine. _'It's almost like that horse knows what I'm thinking, or who I am. Creepy, even by my standards.' _He kept moving for the house, still feeling those blue eyes following him inside.

Once he got inside, he waited while Sam finished looking at Skye's leg, and Dean smiled as she briefly ranted about hating hospitals. _'Yeah, that's my daughter.' _He thought, feeling this odd sensation of pride in his chest. Dean cleared his throat, effectively shoving that feeling down, not wanting to deal with it. Sam and Skye looked up at him.

"Skye?"

"Uh…yeah?"

Dean leaned against the door jamb, hands shoved in his pockets. "Where in Hell did you get that gun?"

Skye chuckled weakly. "Well, y'see, I got a friend of a friend who happens to be a cop. He ended up in a drunken bar fight a while back, and I bargained with him so he wouldn't get a conduct report filed against him for fighting. Cleared the security tapes and everything. The other guy was okay with it, too. He gave me one of his guns, told his superiors that he lost it in a chase he was involved in a week prior. So…yeah." She smiled brightly, ignoring the dull ache that throbbed in her leg.

Dean nodded. "Uh-huh. When are we taking you to the hospital?" He raised his eyebrows as Skye's face paled. "Skye Grace, I am dead serious. You are going to the hospital to get your leg looked at professionally."

Skye waved her hands sarcastically, rolling her eyes as she did so. "Oh, so scared. You pulled out the middle name! Oh my gosh! Whatever shall I do? Ahh!" She fake-shrieked, exaggerating severely. "Seriously though? The middle name? That's crap and you know it. Don't start pulling that shit on me now. I won't listen to any of it." Her green eyes glared at her father, but she wouldn't say those words to him yet. She didn't quite trust him as much as she felt she could, despite what Castiel said.

"Yes. This isn't up for discussion."

"Why not?"

"Because I am your father and I said so."

"Oh, buddy, you can not pull that on me too!"

"Pull what?"

"That 'I'm your father and I said so' bullshit! God! I met you, what? Two, three days ago? At a bar? Randomly? Yeah. You have no right."

"Like hell I don't! I've been hunting a helluva lot longer than you've been alive. And I know a serious injury when I see it. I cannot do anything for that here." He glowered, pointing at her bad leg. "So keep trying to win this argument, sweetheart. It ain't gonna happen." He clenched his jaw to keep from snapping at her again.

She seethed visibly. "Fine. I hope you're happy knowing that I am not a happy person right now. And if my experience with the doctor isn't what I'm hoping it'll be, I'm only going to be pissed at you. Kapish?"

Dean nodded curtly. "Fine. Sam, let's get her in the Impala. There is no way in hell we're taking your truck, kid." He moved to help lift Skye, gently transferring all her weight to his arms so Sam could lead the way. On the way out, Jack followed them out the door and tried to get inside the car with Skye. Dean started yelling and kicking at the dog to get him to leave. "Jack, get outta here. Go away. Get out of the car!"

"Jack. House." Skye said, her voice even and commanding. Jack wagged his tail a little before trotting to the porch and standing by the door. "Sit. Stay." The dog did as she said, head tilted slightly to observe the humans.

When the youngest Winchester was finally situated in the back seat, Dean climbed in the driver seat. "Buckled?" At two nods, he started the engine and rolled out the driveway, making his careful way to the hospital in town.


End file.
